The Pasta and the Moon
by Lawliet Veneziano
Summary: A strange title for a two-part story. Italy, Japan and Germany witness the beginning of the end........


North Italy, Veneziano, remembered the day it all started. He and Germany had been training as usual, the giddy happy Italian doing his usual "salute and then fall asleep, sing or eat" thing, the serious but secretly loving German sighing and running a hand through his hair before hitting Veneziano; Japan had been there too and could only watch in part horror and part amazement as Veneziano started to cry and Germany could only sigh painedly and pat the Napolatian on the head. The two kept on talking at great length, one angrily explaining how that was the wrong answer, one saying sorry over and over; Japan was starting to wonder why he was part of this group, this strange trio of nations who were more comedy group than danger to the Allies. If there was Allies anymore; World War Two had ended long ago but still they trained together like that, he suspected it was because they just couldn't bring themselves to part ways.  
He sighed after a while and looked away to the East, watching the slowly raising sun for a moment before he saw something; another blazing light go up into the endless twilit sky only to crash back down suddenly and explode into a larger display of light and what he knew to be smoke. A large cloud of smoke.  
A large mushroom-shaped cloud of smoke.  
He paled, "g-g-guys?"  
Veneziano was surprised by Nihon's interruption; he looked at Japan, even making Germany pause, "Nihon?"  
"i-i believe.....we need to go inside now," he said trying to calm down despite the familiar fear, the dread, the knowledge of what that /thing/ represented. Death. Terrible, horrible, painful and sometimes slow death.  
Italy readied to complain, he liked being outside, but Germany trusted the Asian nation so he grabbed the little brunette pasta-loving idiot and dragged him inside his house, followed by Japan. Japan found a spot to sit by the window to watch though his heart didn't think he could take it. Veneziano looked over at the Asian nation, worried, his playful grin wiped off his face; something was horribly wrong, he knew it, he felt it. Others called him useless but really he was just a different kind of smart. He looked up at Germany with the blonde appearing ever stoic, "Doitsu, what's going on?"  
"shhh, Italy, not now." the German sounded gentle for once, as if it wasn't really Doitsu but someone Italy knew from long ago. For what had to be the trillionth time Italy envisioned an older Holy Roman Empire, his first and truest love.  
He whined but turned his attention to the window to watch with his two best friends as the world most literately came to an end.

A week passed quickly; world war three had been started. From what little intel Germany had been able to collect the start had seemed to center around China, Russia and of course America; the three were fighting and others were joining in and everyone who got involved, or simply forced to involve themselves, were suffering.  
Italy was happy they weren't getting involved, him and Germany both at least; Japan seemed ever uneasy, moving from his seat by the window very often only to pace a bit and return. Veneziano tried to use pasta to relieve the stress but Japan refused food most of the time; Germany for once gladly took it. The German actually seemed the calmest of the group, usually that being Japan's position; Germany spent hours using whatever means he could to collect information on what was going on outside without having to leave. God knew what might happen if they left. No, they knew too; nuclear warfare was horrible and they knew they'd never survive.  
Veneziano was in the kitchen, humming songs to himself to keep from crying, he hadn't seen his brother in a week and no girls in a week and no soccer either, when he heard voices in the other room, Japan and Germany arguing.  
"we should go assist them."  
"Japan, you're not thinking rationally; if we go out there the fallout will kill us!"  
"we can't start neutral forever though! Russia will come here next and he'll bomb your land to death unless you actually /do/ something other than read information and eat pasta. You're turning into Italy!"  
Silence. Italy totally stopped to listen, his head pressed again the wall to listen, then once more Germany spoke, "let go ahead then, leave and don't come back; I'm sure your brother or the idiot America can help you if you get radiation posioning. If there's any part of you left to help after those bombs hit you that is."  
Silence again then footsteps turning; Italy paled and came out, crying now, "Nihon, wait! Please don't go!"  
Both Germany and Japan looked at Italy, the former looking a bit shocked though it was understandable that Italy would be listening in, the latter looking also surprised. Italy went on; "stay here, with us, its safer, we can survive this out together! Please....don't go out there and get yourself killed, Nihon-kun."  
Japan's look of surprise changed to that consisting of a soft but sad smile; it was the look comparable only to that of a soldier going to war but saying good-bye to his family and loved ones one last time. Yes, Germany and Italy had become more like family in the time they'd spent together than just allies, Japan knew that, he understood it.  
"I'm sorry, Italy," he said turning again to go to the door, hand upon the doorknob, "I.....I really would have been happy here if I didn't feel I was needed," he opened the door and a gust of hot air from outside rushed in, causing both Germany and Italy to shut their eyes and turn away; Japan of course could not, "I'm sure we'll meet again soon though."  
"Nihon...." Italy said softly, painedly, unable to look though.  
Japan's hand clenched his katana in his hand, the ever-faithful weapon feeling both heavy and light in the same motion; he closed his eyes for a moment then set out outside, closing the door behind him.  
"Nihon!!" Italy called out, finally looking to find his friend gone; he reached out for the door but found nothing. He and Germany were alone and he could feel that that would be the last time the whole three of them would be together.

And so Veneziano cried.

Veneziano*sniffs* Nihon!  
Kiku: what?  
Veneziano*hugs* don't leave me ever!  
Arthur*sighs* this is only part one of two; Vene could easily continue right now but it just feels like it might flow better in two parts. The second part will probably be longer and much sadder.  
Veneziano*crying loudly*  
Kiku*just letting him*


End file.
